The Valkyrie Heir
by Wolflover24931
Summary: This is a fan fiction more focused on the Asgardian aspect. However, in this fan fiction Fandral and his step-daughter, Cecilla are the main characters. And Loki of course. Loki's devious plan is to use the Valkyries to gain the Asgardian throne. And he needs Cecilla to do it. This is also co-authored by myself and my friend.


Prologue:

_The soft sound of classical music _floated through the hallways, its sound reaching towards the sleeping daughter of Amber and Arthur.

"Hello?" a woman's voice echoed through the empty hallways. "Oh, it's you, Arthur. What do you need? I just put Cec to bed."

An indistinct voice was heard on the other end.

"What? At this time of night! Are they mad?" Amber's voice was incredulous.

The voice spoke again.

"I see, I'll wake Cecilla up and be there soon."

The phone beeped as Amber hung up on Arthur.

Footsteps approached Cecilla's bedroom where she slept. Amber stared lovingly into her beloved daughter's bedroom. Cecilla's black hair was sprawled across her face, and her tiny hands were curled up into little fists, as if she was fighting off her bad dreams.

Amber padded towards her daughter, and gently placed a hand on her shoulder, and shook it gently. "Cec?" she whispered softly, "Cecilla, you need to get up."

"Mmm what is it, Mommy?" Cecilla muttered.

"Daddy needs us at the doctors." Amber responded.

"Okay." Cecilla mumbled. "Do I havta get dressed?"

Amber shook her head.

"Can you carry me?" Cecilla asked.

"Yes, of course." Amber said while picking up Cecilla.

Cecilla clung to her mother's neck and slept while Amber carried her through the hallways, stopping to pick up her purse and keys. The slammed door echoed through the empty hallways.

_The cold winter wind_ bit Amber's face as she walked through the snow to her car. She quickly buckled Cecilla in her car seat and shut the door, and slid into the car herself. She shoved the keys into the ignition and cranked the engine. The car's response was slow, but eventually the car roared to life. Amber backed out of the driveway and drove down the empty highway.

"The snowstorm is getting worse; Arthur sure picked a night to go to the hospital." Amber muttered.

Amber's hands tightened on the steering wheel as she neared the city. Amber had never liked the city. It had been the place where her parents had been killed. Her adoptive mother had always been careful of that area. Arthur was lucky to have been raised in the country, away from the madness of the city.

She quickly swerved to avoid an oncoming car that came out of the ramp, honking her horn at it. _ That's another reason why I hate the city. _Amber thought. _All of the insane drivers._

Amber took advantage of a stop light to adjust the rear-view mirror to check on Cecilla. Her daughter slept soundly, her eyelids fluttering while she dreamed.

The light flicked green and Amber accelerated. She took two turns and drove up the parking ramp. She quickly found a parking spot and turned the car off. She took Cecilla in her arms and shut the door with her hip.

The orange lights of the hospital glowed softly. A nearby light flickered, and then died. Amber's curly orange hair was luminous in the dim light. She strolled through the automatic doors into a small, nondescript lobby.

The elevator gave a ding as the doors slid opened. Dime-store jazz played while the elevator jerked up in uneven intervals. When the elevator had reached the fourth floor, its speaker announced "Fourth floor, department of long-term illnesses and diagnostics." The stainless steel doors smoothly slid open.

Amber's sneakers gave small squeaks against the linoleum tiles as she walked toward a large wooden reception desk.

"May I help you?" a blond nurse at the desk asked.

"Um, yes, I'm looking for Doctor...," Amber paused as she took out a little piece of paper, "Dr. Lucas Bernat?" Amber said slowly. The nurse nodded and dialed a number on the phone next to her computer. Someone on the other end picked up. "She's here, Dr. Bernat." she paused as the man responded, "Yes, I'll send her down." The nurse put down the phone and pointed to her left, "He'll be in room 238, down the hall on your left."

Amber nodded and walked quickly down the hallway. Deep voices floated down the hallways and a child wailed. Amber shivered. Hospitals always gave Amber the creeps. Room 238 soon came into her view. She balanced Cecilla on one hip and opened the door with the other. Room 238 had a simple hospital bed and three green plastic chairs. There was an assortment of tools that would assess your physical state.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Bernat." the doctor said cheerfully, holding out his hand. Amber took it and said courteously, "I'm Amber, and I believe that you have already met my husband, Arthur." Amber studied Dr. Bernat intently with her calculating green eyes. He looked to be around mid-thirties, had black hair cut short, and wore blue scrubbies and a lab coat.

"I apologize for the abrupt call," Dr. Bernat continued "but there has been another outbreak of pneumonia. But it seems that this case is more lethal, and may cause serious respiratory infections that can be life-threatening." Dr. Bernat said this slowly. Thankfully, Amber didn't know half of what he was saying. "However, there is a vaccine, but it must be adjusted towards people's unique blood type."

Arthur gave Dr. Bernat a quizzical look, "You can do that? I didn't know we were _that _advanced." Dr. Bernat chuckled, "No, no. We cannot make it perfect, but we can tweak it so that it can be adjusted if needed, to the illness that is affecting the person." Dr. Bernat paused. "It also works on a genetic level, if you will. But we must take a large amount of blood in order to get it close to perfect, since there really isn't anything that is perfect."

Dr. Bernat crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, as if that cleared everything up. "So," Amber said carefully, "Will you be taking blood from Cecilla?" Dr. Bernat raised an eyebrow, "No, no. If anything, we'll be doing a finger prick, or even draw a bit of blood at the most." Dr. Bernat smiled, "Don't worry; we will make sure you don't get sick." Arthur patted Amber on the hand.

Cecilla stirred and yawned, "Mommy," she said while yawning, "I gotta pee." Amber put Cecilla down and looked into her tired face. "How bad do you have to go?" Cecilla pondered this for a minute, and crouched down, "I havta go _now_." Amber sighed and picked up her daughter, "I'll be right back," Amber said to the two men. She opened the door and slammed it shut.

Arthur sighed, "I apologize for my wife. She has never liked the city, or the hospital."

Dr. Bernat waved his hand, "No need to apologize, Mr. Dean. It's perfectly understandable, given the circumstances." Dr. Bernat chuckled, "Although your daughter is quite charming."

Arthur smiled, "Her name is Cecilla, and yes, she is quite adorable."

The sound of little footsteps leaked through the door. Cecilla burst into the room breathless; her black hair was wild around her face. Her green eyes were bright as she squealed, "Daddy!"

She ran to her father, arms outstretched. Her father's blue eyes lit up as he smiled and tickled his daughter. Cecilla suddenly found herself no longer on the ground as Arthur picked her up.

Dr. Bernat cleared his throat, and held out his large hand to Cecilla's small fist.

Her eyes grew watery and she suddenly sobbed loudly. Her wail echoed off the walls.

"What's wrong, Cecilla?" Amber asked worriedly.

Between sobs, Cecilla cried, "That man s-scares m-me," while pointing at Dr. Bernat. "I am terribly sorry; I am usually wonderful with kids." Dr. Bernat apologized.

"There's no need to apologize, Doctor. She is probably just scared because this is all new for her." Amber assured him. "Hmmmm." Dr. Bernat hummed. "Well, let's begin shall we?"

Arthur and Amber nodded, oblivious to their daughter's sniffles. Dr. Bernat hummed as he gathered his equipment, syringe over here, some gauze from over there. Soon, Dr. Bernat's arsenal of equipment was complete. "Who wants to go first?" Dr. Bernat asked excitedly.

Arthur raised his hand, mocking the doctor. Dr. Bernat chuckled, and began to whistle a soothing tune, but Cecilla's sniffles refused to leave.

Her eyes widened in pure horror as Dr. Bernat delicately inserted the needle into Arthur's forearm. Arthur's veins pulsed as Dr. Bernat slowly extracted the blood. The needle's cylinder kept steady pace with Dr. Bernat's pulling of the plunger. Soon the cylinder had its fill and Dr. Bernat gently placed the syringe onto gauze covered, stainless steel tray.

Dr. Bernat then silently began to repeat the process with Amber, until there were two full syringes of blood lying on the tray.

Dr. Bernat then turned his attention towards Cecilla, who cowered behind her mother's leg. He reached into his pocket and Cecilla's eyes widened. Dr. Bernat slowly pulled his hand out of his pocket, and produced

...a cookie.

Cecilla's eyes widened even more, but not from fear, but wonder. How could a man produce such a wonderfully delicious cookie from his pocket?

Dr. Bernat smiled pleasantly, "Here's a chocolate-chip cookie, free of charge." Cecilla quickly snatched the cookie and shoved it into her mouth, appearing famished. Dr. Bernat chuckled again, and soon Arthur and Amber joined in.

Cecilla smiled, revealing chocolate covered teeth. "Would you like some treats as well?" Dr. Bernat asked Arthur and Amber, "I do have some handy, as the cookie proved." Dr. Bernat said.

Amber thought for a moment, "If you would be so kind as to allow such a treat, I would quite enjoy It." she said after a moment's thought, and then laughed at her joking manner.

Dr. Bernat joined in and reached in his pocket yet again. He then procured a small plate, covered in plastic wrap.

There were two crackers, each had a leafy green paste. Amber looked at the crackers, as if they were aliens. "I apologize for the horrific display, but they are quite delicious. I just made them myself." Dr. Bernat said, smiling.

He handed the plate to Arthur, who gave it a quizzical look. Arthur slowly uncovered the wrap, as if it were about to blow up. After he had successfully removed it, he gallantly placed one of the strange crackers into his mouth. He chewed slowly, and then swallowed. After a few agonizing seconds, Arthur said, "They are quite delicious; I think that you would like them, Amber." Amber shrugged and popped one into her mouth.

Cecilla stared at her mother in amazement, how could Mommy eat something so grotesque? Amber chewed slowly, and to her amazement, they were delicious, just as her husband had said. Cecilla looked at Dr. Bernat as her parents discussed the food that they had just eaten, since Amber was a professional food critic for a local magazine.

As her parents critiqued the food, Cecilla noticed a growing malice in the doctor's eyes. With every passing second, the malice grew until his eyes were a bright green, unlike the kinder, darker color. Cecilla raised her eyebrow ever so slightly towards Dr. Bernat, who noticed and immediately changed his eyes back to their normal green.

He smiled kindly at her.

"...it had a nice texture too." Amber said to her husband.

Dr. Bernat clapped his hands, signaling that their appointment was complete, "Well, I've still got to analyze the blood samples, and you've got a long drive home, Mr. and Mrs. Dean. Good night, and drive safely." Amber and Arthur responded the same, and waved.

Amber bent down and picked up Cecilla, who was getting drowsy. "Do you mind driving home, Arthur?" Amber asked, "I've got a terrible heartburn right now. I don't even think I could concentrate and I did drive all the way out here." Arthur laughed, "'Course I can, just let me grab my coat. It's in the staff lounge."

Arthur paused, "Actually, I think I'll just get it tomorrow." He whistled as he twirled the keys with his finger, and walked out the door. As they headed for the elevator, the blond receptionist winked at them with bright green eyes, and waved, "Good night." Amber and Arthur waved back.

As the elevator slowly established a feeling of weightlessness on Cecilla's parents, Cecilla dreamt dark dreams. Her head swirled and flashed, as dark, thunderous dream clouds swept in and banished her happy dreams. A shadow of a man fell upon Cecilla, and her parents. The man lashed out his dark hands and snatched away her parents. Cecilla tried to scream, to warn them of their coming doom. But it was too little, too late. Her parents were whisked away, their faces serene and unaware of their loss. The dark thoughts swirled faster, and faster, as the elevator dinged and her parents stepped out.

"Why did we have to go tonight, Arthur?" Amber's voice teetered precariously on whining. Arthur sighed, "I was already at the hospital and Dr. Bernat did say that it was urgent." Amber rolled her eyes, "I suppose, but I have to go to the food critics convention tomorrow, and early too. And you also have to work tomorrow. Should we leave Cec with my mom?" Amber paused. "Cecilla really liked her."

Arthur thought about it for a minute, "I suppose, but I will have to drop her off, won't I?" he asked with a smile. "You know you would have to." Amber said flashing him a wide smile. Arthur laughed quietly, and kissed her on the forehead.

Amber hit the unlock button on the car keys, and the car beeped in response. As Amber buckled Cecilla into her car seat, Arthur started the car. The car coughed and sputtered, but eventually roared to life. Once Amber was in the car, Arthur drove off. Amber buckled herself, as Arthur drove slowly around the curves of the parking ramp.

"We should really look into getting a new car Amber, this one is about done. How long have we had it? 10 years?" Arthur asked. Amber laughed quietly, "We got this when we were married, and we married in '93. You do the math."

Arthur thought for a moment, and then chuckled once, "17 years, then. And tomorrow is our anniversary." Amber smiled again, and took Arthur's hand, resting on the board in-between them. Arthur stole a quick and loving glance at his beautiful wife. Amber sighed, "September 11, 1993. I remember it like it was yesterday." Arthur smiled, but concentrated on the road. The snowstorm was getting worse. Amber looked at the clock, "It's 12:00 Arthur, happy anniversary." Her voice was strained. Her heart-burn had grown. "Happy anniversary." Arthur allowed himself one quick kiss.

This was all it took for the car to hit a patch of ice, and drive into a nearby ditch. The car spun and crashed. Arthur groaned in his seat, and Amber's head lay on the passenger window, blood blossoming from her head. Arthur's eyes slowly flicked to life, and with a crack of his neck he looked at Cecilla. Her small little face was serene and calm, and she rested safely in her car seat, but his wife was a different story. The passenger side had taken the blunt of the crash, and her head has cracked against the window, breaking a blood vessel. Her arm was of concern too. Amber's arm was nestled against the door, lying at the wrong angle. Soon his eyes began to grow heavy, and his chest was on fire. The only breathing in the car was his labored breathing, and Cecilla's quiet breath.

His wife was gone. Hot tears began to flow down his face, as he realized the horrible truth. On September 11, 2010, at 12:00 am, his wife had died, and so would he. Arthur knew the symptoms of cardiac arrest and lung failure; he knew them all too well. Arthur worked in the E.R. of the United Hospital; he saw everything, from suffocating babies to overdoses. He was dying, and nobody could save him, if they had caught it earlier, the doctors might have been able to save him and his wife.

But what puzzled him was the fact that it had come on so suddenly, one minute he was perfectly healthy, and his wife too. Then the next they're lying in the ditch, his wife dead, and himself close behind. A boom of thunder and a flash of lightning whipped him away from his thoughts, even though they were becoming hazy. Indistinct yelling was muffled through the car, but it was becoming quieter and quieter. Soon all of his senses went black. Arthur was left floating peacefully in his mind, his eyes closed and he smiled. He saw his wife. She smiled gently at him and beckoned.

_The door was wrenched_ open, and a man yelled in the distance, "How are they? Are they still yet alive?" his voice booming across the corn fields.

The blond haired man sighed. Another dead case, himself included. Thor and he had been tracking Loki a.k.a Dr. Bernat across the mortal world, Midgard. A whoosh of air told him that Thor was next to him. "Are they alive, good friend? Fandral?" he asked. Fandral took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair, then sighed.

"The father just died, and the mother has been dead for close to about 5 minutes. But the girl that Loki was after is still alive." Thor looked down at the sleeping girl.

"And what will become of the queen? She will be devastated, her only daughter, dead. By the hands of an Asgardian, a prince of Asgard, even. This will surely bring war to the fronts of Asgard. Father will not be pleased."

Fandral stood and opened the door to Cecilla. He unbuckled her, and lifted her up out of the ruined car, and cradled her.

"And what of Cecilla?" he whispered, "We certainly cannot take her back to Asgard with us; you know it is forbidden to bring mortals into Asgard. She has been through so much, in such a little time of life; she deserves to be taken care of properly. Not in some mortal orphanage."

Thor pondered this for a moment, thinking of what to do. Then he snapped his fingers, "I know what we shall do, you should take care of her, you have always said that you loved mortal wenches."

Fandral sighed in a rather exasperated way. "Yes, I am rather fond of mortal women. However, this girl is four years old, hardly qualifying as a 'wench.' " He paused. "But I accept, and in 12 mortal years, I will confront you on this matter, along with the All Father."

Thor nodded solemnly, "We should tip off the mortal police on this car matter, and take the child's seat, you shall need it." He thought for a moment. "I shall ask Lady Sif and my mother on children, and see what they know of matters like these."

Thor gave Fandral a quick pat on the back, and flew off, back into the stars.

Fandral sighed, this time in way that more exhausted, and began to walk down the lonely road. The morning sun would bring the police and paramedics. They would never know of a third passenger in the car, and they would never know of the poisoning of Arthur and Amber Dean. The autopsy would tell that Arthur and Amber died mysteriously of lung failure and cardiac arrest. Dr. Bernat was never seen again, nor was the friendly blond receptionist, much to the disappointment of the male nurses. Soon the small city in Canada pushed it to the back of their minds, and continued on with their lives.

_12 years later._

Chapter One: Cecilla

_I have many strange_ people in my life. Well, really, only two, but that's beside the point.

One is my adoptive father, Fandral. He works at the United Nations, and deals with everything Norway related, but makes me live in Canada, the "entertainment" capital of the world. He sends me enough money each month to pay the bills and for a little entertainment.

The second person is my best friend, Luakas. He can kick butt in sword fighting, dropped out of school, blacksmiths for a living, and is just overall very strange.

And, of course, the main strange person in my life is me. However, I don't count myself as someone "strange" in my life. I'm more of what you would call an "outsider". But I'll be nice and spare you the details. Trust me, you don't want to know.

Fortunately, I'm expert at both strange and being an outsider.

I stuck my hands in my jeans pockets, and kicked some snow with my foot as I strolled down the sidewalk. Luakas was late again, another one of his "strange" qualities. Personally, I think he does it on purpose. Actually, I think everything annoying he does is on purpose.

I heard crunching snow behind me and stuck my arm out. "Hey Ce-" Luakas hollered, then, "Ow!"Why'da hit me?" I turned around and looked down at him, "Because you were late again, stupid, and I _didn't_ hit you. You ran into my arm."

Luakas glared at me and stood up, brushing off his cargo pants. His assorted "projects" jingled in his many pockets. I swear that he has more pockets than brain cells. But that actually isn't saying too much.

"Wanna come over? My dad is out for tonight and the kids and I were going to go see a movie." Luakas asked.

I chewed on my nail, thinking. "If I go over I won't have to deal with Fandral, who's coming home tonight. But on the other hand, if I don't go, Fandral will get worried and call Missing Persons again," I shook my head, "Sorry, Fandral will freak."

Luakas nodded, "How about I come over? I can bring the kids, they _love _him."

I smiled evilly. What a nice surprise for Fandral, after a long and stressful week at work, he gets to come home to three screaming children. I snickered and accepted Luakas's offer. I grabbed his arm and half-dragged him to the tavern across the street: The Lonely Cabin.

"How about we get a bite to eat first? I'll pay." The small bell rang as I pushed open the door. The tavern was surprisingly sparse, considering what time it was, happy hour.

The tavern had a nice homey feel to it, and resembled a cabin (hence the name). There were a few deer heads hanging on the walls, and the wooden stools and tables were neatly arranged around a roaring fireplace. A few chairs showed recent use, as they were pushed away from the table, and Tarrie was cleaning a mug.

"Heya shrimp, how'z it goin?" she said with a lopsided grin. Her curly brown hair was pulled back from her neck in a messy bun, which made it difficult to tell where her bun ended and fluffy wool sweater began.

"Fine, can you get me two root beers?" I asked while shrugging off my jacket. Luakas did the same and shook his now wet black hair. While Tarrie bustled off getting our drinks, I looked around.

Other than us, there were just a man and a woman. The man had his long, rather wavy black hair slicked back, in a mobster sort of style. His clothes looked worse for wear, as they appeared to be rather travel worn. _ I wonder how far he's traveled, probably pretty far, for him to look that tired._

The woman on the other hand, looked primped and ready for a dance. Her long blond hair was pushed back by a green headband that looked suspiciously like a crown, and her short green dress was cut dangerously low. She wore tight fitting black boots with rings running up the length of her front legs. They looked quite the couple, Barbie and the Beaten - Down Mobster.

Tarrie pulled me out of my thoughts by plunking down our mugs, "Here ya go, two fresh brewed root beers. Enjoy." I took out my purse and started counting. Tarrie waved me off. "It's on the house." I smiled, thanked her and sipped my root beer. My thoughts wandered as I methodically sipped my drink. School had gotten out a week ago, and it was "summer", if you could call 50 degree weather "summery".

"Hey Cecilla, that guy's staring at you." Luakas whispered to me. I glanced over my shoulder. Indeed, Sir Beaten-Down scrutinizing me with slightly narrowed eyes.

"I think he likes you," Luakas said with an evil smile. I elbowed him in the stomach. "Shut up," I hissed. "Thank you, Tarrie, for the root beer." I said with a smile. "Say hi to Fandral for me," she called. "Sure thing!" I said.

I hopped off of the bar stool, and walked out the door with Lucas and tow. "Heeeey, I didn't get to finish my root beer." Luakas whined. I just kept on walking, pulling him along. Once we had gotten a fair distance away from the tavern, I said to Luakas, "I didn't like that guy, he gave me the creeps."

"Everyone gives you the creeps." Luakas said. I stuck my tongue out at him. I crossed my arms and started stalking away from Luakas. "Hey! Wait up!" he yelled. I broke out into a run, and started laughing. I turned a corner into an alley and burst out onto my street. I jumped over my fence and burst into the doorway. I panted heavily, but was still smiling.

I heard snow crunching behind me and turned around in time for Luakas to come barreling into me. "Ooof!" we both said. "Get offa me, you're heavy." I complained to Luakas. He glared at me. "Shut up," he said, the glare turning into a grin. He rolled off me, sinking into the snow. "God, that's freezing!" he yelped.

"Well, it is_ frozen_ water. Did you consider that?" I said to him condescendingly.

"My, my, what do we have here?" said a voice. Luakas and me both froze, and slowly, almost comically, looked up behind us.

"Hey, Fandral," I said nervously. Fandral's expression, landing on Luakas, turned sour. Fandral had never liked Luakas since I had met him at pre-school. I never really understood why.

Fandral stomped across the yard, and yanked Luakas up by the collar of his black work shirt and said with a bit of a growl in his voice, "What do you think you were doing to my daughter? Huh?" With his expression promising violence, I decided to break the tension.

"I'm not your daughter, you old man I'm your _step daughter_." Actually, Fandral wasn't that old, in his late thirties, but looked like a 25-year-old Robin Hood.

He froze for a second, and then started making puppy eyes. "Awww, c'mon, don't be like that Ce-" I kneed him hard in the gut before he could finish his sentence. He doubled over. I made a fist at him, and with my eyes flaming I growled, "What have I said about grabbing Lucas like that?"

Fandral knelt dramatically on the snow and held his hands together as if begging for mercy, and mock-whimpered, "I'm very sorry! I won't do it again! I promise!"

Yeah, right.

Luakas sighed, stood up, brushed himself off, and muttered, "I wonder who's really in charge here."

"Do you really have to ask?" I said. I looked down at Fandral and sighed. As much as I would have liked to keep him there on the freezing ground, I knew that if I did that, the neighbors would have another thing to gossip about the juvenile delinquent and her absent step-father.

"Fine, you're forgiven. Now, put your bags away." They were still strewn across the threshold.

Fandral meekly nodded and climbed to his feet. "Yes, ma'am."

I looked over at Luakas. He was suppressing a smile. I growled at him (I seemed to be doing a lot of growling today) and gave him my version of the evil eye. His grin vanished.

I harrumphed again, strode into the kitchen to start dinner. Since Fandral had come home, I decided to make his favorite, Swedish sausage and rice. Don't ask why, he just likes it. It's another strange quality of his.

I took out the meat, onions, and potatoes, and put them through the grinder. Filling up three skins, I set them in the already heated pan and seared them.

Luakas leaned against the counter. He always liked to watch me cook. He said that it was "magical". I never really understood that, but I took it as a compliment.

After the skins were seared, I walked out onto our deck and fired up the grill. I walked back inside and grabbed our ancient rice cooker that Fandral had picked up from who knows where. I poured in the rice and set the cooker. I walked over to the grill and put on the sausages. They popped and sizzled as they cooked, a warm and spicy smell drifting through the house.

"Is that Swedish sausage I smell?" Fandral hollered down the staircase. I rolled my eyes. What else could it be, a hotdog? Not that I've ever had one, although, from what I hear about them, I'm kind of glad that I haven't. Yuck. I stuck my tongue out at the thought, and then pushed it aside. Gross thoughts would have to wait for later.

"_So, what have you_ been up to while I was away?" Fandral asked, like he does every time he comes home. He calls it "Keeping up with my step daughter."

I just call it irritating.

"Just the usual, throwing wild parties, having the cops being called by the neighbors, and narrowly escaping being arrested. Oh, and did I mention the gang fights? They're brutal."

Fandral raised his eyebrows.

"And I assume drugs and alcohol as well?"

"Honestly, Fandral," I complained. "I'm not that big of an idiot."

"Could've fooled me," Luakas muttered.

I shot him a look and continued. "And even if I _was _an idiot, there's no place to get into trouble around here anyway."

"I could think of some_one_," Fandral said, eyeing Luakas.

I was tired of him hammering on Luakas. "I could think of someone too. Someone who could afford to take a few blows on their ego."

"Burn," Luakas whispered.

Fandral frowned at me. "There was no call for that. I just worry, that's all."

"Yeah," I sighed. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Well, you _are _right in saying I have a bit of a swollen head," Fandral countered.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the understatement of the millennia has just been PROCLAIMED!" Luakas shouted, holding his fork like a microphone.

I rolled my eyes. "You know, Luakas, there is a wonderful mechanism of the mouth called 'shutting up'. You really ought to try it sometime."

"And you really ought to take your own advice once in a while," Luakas shot back.

"And _you _ought to-"

"Do you two do this often?" Fandral asked, looking amused. "I must admit, it's entertaining. It's like watching a cross of Saturday Night Live and Keeping Up with the Kardashians."

"Ugh. Fandral, do _not _compare me to those plastic Yuppies. I have enough of those kinds of Barbies at school," I said.

"More like Barbies and Kens," Luakas added.

"And what are you two, if you're not Barbie and Ken?" Fandral asked.

Luakas and I looked at each other for a minute, and then said at the same time, "Real."

"How real?" Fandral questioned.

"We're so real that we scare them," I replied.

"Except me," Luakas said. "I think I'm the only one who talks to Cecilla like she's not about to rip their head off."

"Even though I sometimes am," I joked.

Fandral raised an eyebrow at me, and sipped his drink.

Luakas looked at his watch and yelped, "Crap, I completely forgot about the kids." He looked at me. "And I blame you." he said.

I held my hands up. "What did I do?" I said incredulously. He smiled, "'Cuz you're such an amazing cook. Night, Cecilla. See ya later." And with a wave he was out the door. The slammed door echoed through the house.

Fandral smiled to himself, "I think he likes you." he said while chewing on a sausage. I stared at him. This was the second time today I had been told that a guy liked me.

"I-I have no idea what you mean." I spluttered. I nervously drank my Mountain Dew.

Fandral said nothing and smiled knowingly. He rustled in his pocket and produced two slips of paper. I stared at him suspiciously. Whenever he produced something unexpected, it was usually something I didn't like. He set them on the table and cleared his dishes. I heard them clink in the sink and him padding up the stairs. Apparently, this was something I had to figure out on my own.

I stood up and cleared off the table. I could always do dishes in the morning. I gently picked up one of the slips of paper and squinted. I gave up and ran up to my room to grab my glasses.

I jumped on my bed with the papers and put on my square specs. "Now, let's see here..." I mumbled to myself. My eyes ran over the small black type. It was a pair of airplane tickets. I scanned the words again. Then I saw where Fandral was planning on taking us.

"Norway? Why the bloody hell are we going to Norway?" I grumbled to myself. I knew that Fandral worked there, but why did he want to drag me along? I wanted nothing to do with his job, which I assumed involved talking to old, dusty government officials.

I stood up and stalked down the long hall to Fandral's room. I pounded on the door and yelled, "This had better be some kind of bloody joke, you old man!" I heard him snickering on the other side. "Look more closely my dear. Read the fine print. You can clearly see that they are indeed authentic, and you will be going, whether you like it or not." A tone of command had crept into his normally humorous voice.

I groaned and stalked back down the hallway, and threw myself on my bed. I mumbled to myself for an hour or so before I fell asleep.

_A loud boom echoed through the house, __I_ looked around groggily. Apparently, I had hit my nightstand on the way down. "Owww..." I mumbled and rubbed the side of my head. _Note to self: get a nightstand that is _not _made of oak. Consider foam._

Fandral burst into my room, "Cecilla! Are you okay?" he said, breathless.

I laughed. "I'm fine, you silly oaf. I only fell off my bed. It's not like I jumped off the roof."

Fandral sighed. "You have to be more careful," he said while helping me up. "You never know what'll happen if you're not, okay?" Fandral said, obvious concern straining his voice.

I rolled my eyes, "I'm 16, Fandral. I think I can take care of myself." I paused. "So, what's about this trip to Norway?" I said, waving the tickets in the air. "Well, I thought that you might like to see where I am all the time." he said nervously.

I cocked an eyebrow. How stupid did Fandral think I was? But I decided to play along,

"Really? I suppose. I've always wanted to see Norway. I hear it's pretty cold this time of year, though."

Fandral visibly relaxed, I had believed him. "Okay, well. Why don't you go dig out your suitcase, and start packing. We leave in two weeks." he said. I nodded. He left the room.

_Loki sighed as he_ sipped his drink. He twirled his staff in one hand. "Enchantress, when will that child get to Norway?" he said, a slight lilt to his tone.

The Enchantress sighed. "I told you, she will get there in two weeks."

"They are traveling by mortal means, you know." Loki scoffed. "That Fandral is very determined to keep the girl ignorant."

The Enchantress rolled her eyes. Loki could be so difficult at times. She didn't see why the Child of the Stars had to be in Norway for Loki to abduct her, anyway.

Loki claimed he was nothing like his step-brother, but each had stubbornness and pride that was impossible to push against. And they were both _quite _handsome... but the Enchantress pushed away her fantasies. Those would have to wait for later.

"How do you think we should kidnap the girl, Enchantress?" Loki said, pondering, "Should we swindle her? Or just simply use force?" he said, suddenly crushing his mug of ale. Droplets scattered everywhere and froze into crystals. "Perhaps I could just freeze her." A small smile played around his lips.

Oh, this was so intriguing. He had never had the full pleasure of a manhunt before. Before, they had always been with Thor, hunting the Frost Giants and such. But now he had free rein. This was sure to be much more tantalizing. The thrill would be higher, and the screams of the prey much more musical.

A full smile danced on his face, the twinkle in his eyes twirling and spinning with madness. The Enchantress smiled back at him.

This was going to be fun indeed.

_Two weeks later, at the Airfield landing strip._

Chapter two:

_I ran up to the plane _breathless. Fandral had wasted no time packing and getting to the landing strip. A private jet waited for us. _Stark Industries _was plastered onto the side of the plane, like a tattoo, just not as interesting. A man in a suit took my suitcase for me. I nodded my thanks and went to join Fandral in the plane. When I had finally climbed up the staircase, I looked around, and did a double take.

It looked almost exactly like our living room at home. Just not as tattered and worn. "Stark always puts everythingyy over the top." Fandral grumbled. My eyebrows shot up. Fandral knew Tony Stark? He is, probably, the most famous Avenger that ever walked the Earth. Well, they were all pretty famous, but he was the most famous of them all.

"You know Tony Stark?" I asked incredulously. Fandral cleared his throat, "Um, no, I do not know Mr. Stark personally. But a friend of mine does, so he was able to arrange a private jet for us. That's all there was to it." he said nervously. I said nothing. Fandral was obviously hiding something from me.

"Please take your seats. We will be taking off shortly here in a few minutes," a man said over the speaker. I sat in one of the comfy looking couches and buckled myself. I laid my head back against the cushioned headrest and closed my eyes. This was going to be a long trip.

_I slowly opened my eyes. I was standing in a throne room, with no walls or ceiling, only blackness. A man clad in forest green was sitting on the large golden throne, smirking, as if laughing to some secret joke. I floated down and my feet touched the cool floor. I had grown accustomed to my translucent dream-self, as these strange dreams had gotten more frequent over these past two weeks. I didn't bother telling Fandral. He would probably take me to a doctor, worried that I had a brain tumor or something._

"_Hello, Cecilla." the man on the throne said. I crossed my arms and thought, _Let's just get this over with. _I rolled my eyes, "Hello, person I have never met," I said sarcastically. The man chuckled, "Oh, but you do know me, Cecilla. Haven't we been seeing each other for the past two weeks?" Poison dripped off my name as he said it. I shivered. This man seemed slippier than a snake, slyer than a fox._

_He stood and the entire room disappeared. An image of my parents materialized. I gasped. Even though we did this little dance every time, I never got used to the sight of my parents. Their eyes were closed, as if they were sleeping. They both wore white clothes, my mother's white dress billowing around her, as if she were underwater. "Your beloved parents, 'together until death do us part'. Such a touching vow, and so true." he said, false sympathy cloying his voice._

"_What's it to you?" I said, my tone sharper than one of Luakas's swords, and the words cold as ice._

_The man cringed, "Ouch. Don't be like that, Cecilla. I'm here to help." he said, putting a long-fingered hand across his heart. "I promise."_

_He stood from his throne and walked around my parents, observing them with emerald eyes. "I'm sure you know who took your parents away, don't you?" The man said, eyeing me. I hugged myself._

"_Yes." I said quietly. The man nodded somberly, and took my hand. His snow white skin was colder than the bitterest winter night. "I know how devastating it is to lose one's birth parents. I lost mine as well."_

_I looked at him. His eyes told me that his words held no lies. He squeezed by hand. "And the only thing that can set you free from your misery is revenge."_

_I looked up at him. _Can I really trust you? _I thought. The man gave every intention of being untrustworthy. But how else would I see that my parent's killer got what he deserved?_

_He leaned down and whispered in my ear, "You'll know who killed your parents when you see him. And you will get your revenge. I swear it."_

"_Do you promise I'll know who it was?" I asked in a whisper. The man nodded and disappeared._

_Darkness engulfed me._

I bolted up, and looked around. _That's right, _I thought. _I'm on an airplane_. I looked over at Fandral. His obnoxious snoring had obviously woke me up. I rolled my eyes and unbuckled myself. I stretched and groaned. I was so stiff. Amazing what an hour of sleeping in a jet can do to you.

I walked around the cabin, exploring. There was a small kitchen and bathroom. The bathroom even had a shower! I took note of that and looked out the window.

We were flying so high up! I mean, all I could see were clouds, but still, that's pretty far up. I've always thought it was cool that no matter how stormy the sky looked, the sun was always shining above them, if you went high enough above the clouds.

Fandral snorted and woke up, dazed. "Mornin' sleepyhead. Sleep well?" I said in mocking tone. Fandral rolled his eyes and stood up, and stretched. He groaned.

"Where are we?" he asked, yawning.

"We are currently really high up in the sky right now. Any other questions?" I said sarcastically. He ignored me and went to go talk with the pilot. A few seconds later he came out. "The pilot says that we're going to be landing in a few hours." he said. I nodded and sat back down.

As Fandral was sitting back down into his seat I asked, "So, why exactly the huge rush to get to Norway? You haven't invited me on a business trip before. Why now?" I raised an eyebrow.

Fandral sighed. Then I thought of another question.

"And if we took off from Canada just a couple of hours ago, how can we already be landing in Norway in just three or four hours? Even Stark's jets aren't that fast."

Fandral shrugged. "Perhaps we just have a fast pilot."

I scowled. "Don't play smart with me, mister."

He grinned. "I'm not playing smart. It just comes naturally."

"Kind of like your large ego?"

"Something like that," Fandral agreed.

I waited. Fandral looked back at me, eyebrows slightly raised.

"What?" he asked.

"Are you or are you not gonna answer my questions?" I demanded.

"Which ones?"

I groaned loudly. "The ones I asked about thirty seconds ago."

"Ah, those. Well, I don't think you ought to know those answers quite yet."

"And why not?" I snapped, a little more sharply than I'd meant to.

"Well..." Fandral paused, looking out the window, as if the clouds would form the answers he needed. When it turned out that the weather didn't plan to comply, he turned back to me. It was apparent that he couldn't think of a pretense not to answer.

"I'll tell you the basics, alright? Nothing more. Just enough so you're not kept in the dark."

I shrugged. "Fine by me."

"Okay then." Fandral thought a moment, like he was planning on how to begin. He grimaced.

"You're what, 15?" he asked. I sighed, "I'm _16_."

"Right, right," he said, "I believe that you are old enough to know what I do at work."

I rolled my eyes. "Paperwork and making sure Norway doesn't blow up the US of A. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I figured that much out on my own, thank you very much. You've always been a horrible liar, Fandral."

Fandral started sweating and bit his lip. Obviously, atomic bombs from Norway didn't begin to cover it. What else did his job include? Fending off vikings?

"Okay, you've caught me," Fandral said finally. "I was lying."

I smiled in triumph. I had won. Now I would get some _real_ answers.

"The reason is-" Fandral started, then was suddenly cut off by a loud explosion. I ducked and covered my ears.

"What the hell was that?!" I yelled at Fandral. Fandral ignored me and ran into the cockpit.

The pilot and Fandral started yelling at each other, as we were falling at an alarming rate. I looked out the window, seeing the ground rushing up to our plane, preparing to smash me more flat than a pancake. Not something I was interested in.

My stomach flew up into my throat and my ears popped. "Fandral," I hollered, "Do something!" Fandral ran past me and pulled out two parachutes. "What about the pilots?" I asked, concern lacing my voice. "They'll survive." Fandral growled back. He threw me a parachute, and right as my hand made contact with the straps, another explosion rocked the plane. Fandral swore and grabbed my arm to keep me from falling a couple thousand feet. He then slammed the parachute onto my shoulders and started buckling all of the straps. He wrenched open the door and yelled, "Make sure you pull the red handle!"

"But what about you?" I yelled back. Fandral stroked my hair and with a sad expression on his face, he pushed me out of the plane. My hair whipped my face in the wind. I spun, screaming. I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I repeated that mantra in my head over and over. Then I remembered the handle and grabbed the red one, and pulled.

The straps bit into my body as the parachute billowed behind me. The wind eased significantly, and my hair stopped punishing my face. My feet dangled uselessly hundreds of meters in the air. I looked up, trying to find the plane, but only saw the white of the parachute. I heard an explosion behind me and saw debris burning and falling in front of me. A piece of burning metal seared against my leg and burnt me. I hissed and slapped at the fire trying to ignite my jeans into ashes.

I looked down and scanned the brown, barren landscape for some sign of civilization. After a few minutes, I spotted something: a house in the distance. Well, that was something. But how was I going to get there?

The ground continued to grow closer and I panicked. How was I going to take a crash course in landing in a parachute now? I'd never used a parachute before (do you know anyone who has?). How the heck are you supposed to land? I didn't have time to think though, since the ground was only a few meters away now. As soon as my feet touched the ground, I tucked my knees in and went into a sidewise roll until my momentum stopped. I didn't land as gracefully as I wanted to though.

As soon as I stopped rolling, I fell into a half-meter of snow with a WUMPH! I kicked and struggled to get out of the snow before it decided to run down the back of my sweater. However, it was too late. My back arched from the sudden cold. I wrestled with the parachute pack and managed to get it off and flung it across the field. I waded out of the snow bank and started to trudge across toward the house I had seen. At least, the house I thought I had seen.

Fandral paced back and forth restlessly in Thor's small living room. "Calm down Fandral, it's not like she's dead." Thor said reassuringly. Fandral glared at Thor and continued his pacing.

Thor sighed."If you enchanted the parachutes right, she should have been guided right here, or near here, at least."

"That's not what I'm worried about though!" Fandral exclaimed, "What if she freezes? Or even worse, Loki finds her."

Thor smiled, "You have come to care greatly for this mortal in these past years." Fandral stopped pacing and stared hard at the floor, pondering what his friend had just said. "Yes, she is…." He began, but became lost in the thought. "You love her don't you?" Thor said while wagging his eyebrows.

Fandral sputtered, "No, I don't love her! I would never court her, she is like a daughter to me! I'm just, concerned for her. She gets lost easily, and she isn't the most graceful mortal out there. She also forgets things easily." Thor raised his eyebrows and said nothing, then changed the subject, "So what was the fate of the two pilots? Did they survive?" Fandral nodded, happy for a subject change, "Yes, they survived. They parachuted out and Stark should be sending a search party for them within a few hours." Thor leaned back satisfied.

_Now, _he thought, _we wait._

I trudged through the snow, shivering. Where am I? All I knew was that it was cold, and I didn't have a jacket. I sneezed and wiped my frozen nose, which had long gone numb. I tried to hold my whipping hair close to my ears, like ear muffs. Snow filled my boots and flooded my socks. My teeth chattered as I looked around for the house I saw earlier. I spied it, silhouetted against the raging snow storm which had completely blindsided me, and trekked towards it. I walked up to the door and took the door knocker with frozen fingers, and slammed it against the door. I stood there shivering and miserable in the cold, hearing the thud of footsteps.

A man wrenched open the door and warm air washed over me. My knees went weak from the sudden warm air, "M-may I-I c-co-ome i-in?" I said through chattering teeth. "Of course, you must be freezing." He said, and gestured in his house. I shuffled through the door with half frozen feet and looked around.

It had a cabin-like feel to it, with big logs for the walls around me, and animal head hanging on the ceiling. I didn't recognize any of the animals though. There was a deer-like animal that had twisting horns, pronged out in different directions, its eyes were a startling yellow. The man shut the door behind me while I was gazing at his house. "Amazing, is it not?" he asked me. I nodded numbly. I turned around to look at the man, and my eyes widened in surprise. He was Thor, the God of Thunder! My teeth still chattering, "Y-you're T-Thor, f-from the A-Avengers." Thor nodded and my knees went weak. This was too much for me, an Avenger?

Out here in all this snow and wind? It just didn't seem possible. I thought Thor lived in Asgard. Thor knelt down and helped me up, "You must be freezing, come here, sit." He said while guiding me towards a huge lazy chair. "Excuse me, Thor?" I asked cautiously, is this even the right way to address a god? "Yes?" Thor answered from the kitchen, his mouth stuffed with food. "Did a man with short blond hair and a little goatee and mustache come by here at all?" I mimicked the goatee and mustache as Thor walked in, a massive sandwich in his hands, half eaten. Thor pondered this for a moment and hollered up the stairs, "Fandral! She's here!" I heard a scramble of feet as someone came pounding down the stairs. "Cecilla!" Fandral yelped as he enveloped me in a bear hug with an audible _oomph_. I patted him on the back and returned the hug, happy to be safe again. "Fandral," I said muffled by his crinkled shirt. I shoved him away, gasping. Thor exchanged looks with Fandral. Thor smiled knowingly and Fandral shoved him. Thor pretended to stumble, laughing while he did. I raised my eyebrows at the friendly atmosphere between them. Fandral saw my confused expression and explained, "Thor and I have been friends ever since we were young." I crossed my arms, "So, like since you two were teens?" "The girl catches on fast, my friend. She's a smart one," Thor complemented. I blushed. How could I not? I was just complimented by a GOD. Luakas will never believe this. I stopped thinking about the compliment for a moment though, "Wait, how do you two know each other? Before Fandral adopted me, he lived in New York City, working as an assistant to the Norway department at the UN."


End file.
